They Stopped the Moving Sands
by White Mizerable
Summary: Arthur lost control of his own life the moment he showed the Signs. Every decision was left up to destiny. It has never truly bothered him up until this moment, when he cannot even choose his own mate. Sci-fi, "Dune"-based AU. Rated M for non-graphic sex.


Night had fallen over the dunes. Arthur stood in the mouth of the cave, staring outwards at the ever-shifting sands. The winds whistled past him, but draped in the thick ritual robes as he was, he did not shiver. His sandmask glinted in the cool light of the two moons. Yet even as he watched the beauty of the scene before him, his thoughts were elsewhere. He did not hear the footfalls approaching from behind until a gloved hand came to rest upon his shoulder. He turned to look up into spice-blue eyes, glowing over the top of the man's sandmask. "Alfred," he said by way of greeting.

"Arthur." The hunter's voice was rough, and Arthur thought back to earlier that day. Alfred had ridden the sandworm. It was not his first ride, no- that had come many years earlier, and had established Alfred as one of the most proficient hunters in their community at barely thirteen cycles of age. Arthur had been there, watching from the safety of the rocks, whispering silent words of prayer behind his mask as the strange outsider boy swung his hooks into the worm's body. But Alfred had survived, and had been honored for his courage and skill.

Today was different, though. Alfred had ridden the sandworm, just as many had done before him, and he had returned with a knife. The blade was rough, hewn from one of the sandworm's crystalline teeth, forged by Alfred's own hands. Arthur could see it settled in its sheath on the hunter's waist. There had been a ceremony earlier, celebrating Alfred's emergence into the highest ranking of hunter, but Arthur had not gone. He had not dared. "Congratulations," he said instead, looking away.

"Arthur." Alfred's voice was gentle this time. His fingers ran across the exposed skin beside Arthur's eyes, and Arthur trembled. "Are you prepared for tomorrow?"

"If I answered yes, would you believe me?"

"No."

"Then no, I am not." Their gazes met again. Alfred seemed almost to glow in the moonlight, and Arthur wondered if he appeared the same. He smiled sadly beneath his mask, aware that the man before him could not see it, and reached up to grasp the wandering hands. "Come, let us go inside."

Alfred nodded but said nothing, allowing Arthur to lead them back between the rocks until they were once again inside the giant cavern that made up their people's home. Firelight flickered from the many small side caves where the people slept. Before Arthur could step out into the open air of the central cavern, Alfred grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, sheltering both of them behind a rocky shelf. Only the faintest of light could reach them now, but it caught and burned within Alfred's eyes as they stared down at Arthur. "Arthur-"

"Alfred-"

"No, listen to me." Alfred reached up to remove his sandmask, revealing the dark skin beneath it. His lips were twisted into a frown, made crooked by the scar that crossed along the side of his mouth, but his fingers were gentle as they unhooked the clasps of Arthur's mask as well. "Tomorrow, you… Tomorrow you choose your mate."

Arthur shook his head, closing his eyes so as not to stare into that pained face. "Not me. Fate." He felt his own mouth slide up into a weak smile. "And even that is only if I survive the test."

"You will." Alfred's fingers, now ungloved, stroked along Arthur's cheekbones. "You are too strong for even the spice to kill."

"Stronger men have fallen to it." Arthur leaned into the calloused touch for a long moment, before pulling away with a stuttering sigh.

"Arthur-"

Arthur refused to look at the man standing before him. His face felt cold where Alfred's warm hands had been. "Why are you here? You should have chosen your mate today. Should you not be lying with them?"

"I did not choose." Alfred's stepped forward, gently lifting Arthur's chin until their eyes met again. "The elders told me I would have my choice of any man or woman, but I do not want any of them." His hand shook as it brushed aside Arthur's hair. "I only want you."

"Foolish boy!" Arthur cried as he pulled away again, this time moving back along the stone floor. "You could have laid with anyone. Anyone here would have been proud to be your mate! Why would you choose me? You… You know you cannot have me." His voice broke, and he was reminded again of how young he truly was, how young the man across from him was.

"It is not fair," Alfred whispered, harsh and angered. "If it were you telling me no, that you did not want me, I would find another, but…" He pointed out into the cavern. "How can they tell you what to do, who to choose? It is not their life. It is yours. It is ours."

Arthur bit at his tongue to keep the tears from seeping out of his eyes. "You know this has been decided for me ever since I started to show the Signs. You were there, Alfred. You saw! This is my destiny, to guide these people. It is my destiny to be their Sayyadina, their witch! The last one died many cycles ago. They need me, Alfred."

Alfred's frown deepened, pulling further at his scar. "But why do they need to choose your mate? Why is that their decision?" He reached out for Arthur's hands and lifted them to his lips, pressing the softest of kisses to his fingers. "Why can it not be yours?"

"You know that it is part of the ritual," Arthur murmured. He did not pull his hands away, but his breath caught at every brush of Alfred's lips. "If I survive the test, the spice in my body will lead me to my destined mate. My own desires do not matter now." He stared up into those eyes, the same blue as every other man and woman, yet somehow so different.

"It is not fair," Alfred said again. The words were heavy with sadness, a pain that echoed in Arthur's own chest. "I love you."

Arthur gasped, nothing more than a choked inhalation, and drew his hands away. "Alfred, do not-"

"No, I will. If- If I cannot have you, I need to tell you how I feel." Alfred did not move forward this time, merely extended his arms outwards towards Arthur. "I am not allowed to witness your test, not as an outsider, and if this is my last chance to be with you, you must know. I love you, Arthur. I have told you many times before, and I will tell you again. I love you." His eyes were beginning to gleam with tears. "Perhaps I am not your destined mate, but I know that I was brought here for you. That sandstorm, so many cycles ago, guided me here, to this tribe and to you. It was fate. Even if there is another mate out there for you, there is not one for me. I am yours, Arthur. My heart beats for you. It always has."

"No, you are wrong." But Arthur's voice shook as he forced the words past his lips, and he found himself stepping closer to the hunter even as his mind urged him to flee. "There is another out there, another for whom your heart beats. You just have not met them yet."

Alfred shook his head slowly. "I have met them, Arthur- I have met him. He is strong, and beautiful, and intelligent, and kind. He is you, and my heart is yours. This is my destiny. I can feel it." A tear slipped out from his eyelashes, trailing slowly down his skin. "No matter who you choose tomorrow, I will always love you. There is no one else on this world, no one else in this galaxy, for me. It will always be you."

"Fool." Arthur stepped forward once, and then again, until his trembling hand could reach out to brush away the glistening teardrop. "Do not waste your water on me."

"It is not wasted," Alfred replied softly. He caught Arthur's hand and entwined their fingers. The light of the fires still flickering within the cavern cast beautiful patterns across his skin. "Nothing is wasted on you."

"Fool," Arthur said again, though it came out as nothing more than a broken whisper. He did not recall moving forward, nor could he remember Alfred leaning down, but his heart soared with their combined elation as their lips met. His body seemed to catch fire at the touch, and the flames only burned brighter as he felt Alfred's hands come to wrap around him. His fingers threaded themselves between the thick, mussed locks of Alfred's hair. Longing coursed through his veins, and he pressed himself closer to the hunter, to the man that he wanted yet could not have. While his veins still burned with that desire, he forced himself away, pushing at Alfred's shoulders until they stood an arm's length apart.

"Arthur," Alfred murmured, his hands moving to gently hold Arthur's elbows.

"We cannot." Arthur drew in a shaky breath. "We cannot do this. Tomorrow, I-" Alfred leaned forward to catch his lips again, and Arthur returned the kiss with twice the passion as the first, but pulled away before Alfred could draw him back into his arms. "Alfred, you know I cannot."

Alfred did not reply, merely releasing Arthur's arms and stepping away. The rock shelf cast a shadow across his face. Arthur nearly followed him, nearly wound himself around the hunter, nearly forgot the consequences, but Alfred's voice stopped him. "I wish that you could choose me tomorrow." It sounded hoarse, broken, lost.

"I-" Arthur stared down at his hands, watching as they clenched into white-knuckled fists. "I-" He almost could not bring himself to look up again, but when he did, he saw Alfred's eyes shining even in the darkness, and the words broke free before he could restrain himself. "Oh Alfred, I wish I could! If I could have anyone, if it was truly my own choice, it would be you." He felt the strange sensation of liquid trickling down his cheek, and knew that he was wasting water on his tears. He could not seem to stop. "It would be you."

There was silence, long and broken only by the sound of the distant flames. Then Alfred was striding forward, sweeping Arthur into his arms, pressing him back until the rocks dug against his legs. Arthur gasped into Alfred's mouth, grasping onto the hunter's shoulders with as much force as he could muster. Their warm breaths washed together over and over. Heat boiled between them, spreading through Arthur's body and catching fire at every point where his body melted against Alfred. "I love you," he whispered between kisses. "I love you." He could hear Alfred murmuring the same sentiment. The cavern around them disappeared, the sounds of the fires silenced, and all that existed in the world was himself and Alfred, melded seamlessly together. If this was not destiny, he did not believe in it.

Someone shifted in their sleep, cloth slid loudly across the ground, and the world reappeared in an instant. Arthur shoved Alfred away, drawing in a deep breath of air. He looked away from the hunter's face. He could not bear to witness the expression of sadness that he could already imagine. His lips throbbed in pain, and he reveled in it, for he knew he would never be able to touch Alfred in that way again. "I have to go," he heard himself say. The words hurt his throat, tore at his heart, but he turned and fled.

He did not look back, and he did not need to. The heartbreak that would be painted across Alfred's features was the same as Arthur wore himself.

* * *

><p>Arthur did not remember waking up, or being dressed, or the walk to the ritual stone altar where the test would take place. All he could recall was the sea of faces, hundreds of pairs of spice-blue eyes staring at him as he stood before them. Alfred was not among them, and Arthur knew it, but he could not stop peering out over the heads of the crowd. They would never allow an outsider witness to such a significant moment. Alfred could not be there. Still he searched. His gaze moved past the chieftain, past his son, Francis, past the children and the women and the men, and found nothing.<p>

"Arthur." He turned his weary eyes to the elder standing beside him. "Are you ready?"

He wanted to say no. He had barely slept the night before, his nerves racing and his heart aching, and the ceremonial robes were heavy and uncomfortable upon his skin, and Alfred was not there. But Arthur merely nodded. He did not trust himself to attempt a smile. Wordlessly he followed the elder's directions, sitting down upon the stone altar and holding out his arms out to the crowd. He wondered what they saw before them. Was it the boy they had known since childhood, the inquisitive and irritable brat? Or was it the strange, mystical man who, despite living amongst them, had not blue eyes but brilliant green? As he sat there, staring out into those many faces, he found that even he did not know who he was anymore.

"Today we witness an ordeal that occurs only once in a lifetime." The elder's voice rang out through the cavern's rocky walls. He lifted his hands into the air, and Arthur did not need to look up at them to know what he held. The pair of long needles, filled with the purest reserves of spice, had haunted his dreams for a long time. "Today, our Sayyadina will face his destiny, and see if this is truly what he was created to do. To bear witness to this test is a privilege granted only those of this tribe, and what you see here today is our secret to keep." He turned to Arthur, who met his eyes without emotion. "Sayyadina, are you prepared to meet your fate?"

"Yes," Arthur whispered, only just loud enough for the assembled people to hear. He held his arms out further, lifting them so that the sleeves would fall back to drape around his elbows, and turned his palms upwards. His wrists seemed so small and frail. The needles approached his defenseless skin, and in that moment before he felt the sting of being stabbed, he looked out over the crowd again. In that moment, for only that moment, he almost believed he saw Alfred's face. He closed his eyes.

The spice burned as it entered his bloodstream. Arthur gasped at the feeling, and bit down on his lip to stop any more sounds from escaping. It felt as though he was lying nude on a bed of embers, his body slowly charring, but the pain was not as potent as he had been expecting. He relaxed his tense muscles and drew in a deep breath.

All at once, the dull heat was gone, and his inner body seemed to explode in flames. Arthur thought he heard someone scream. It might have been his own voice, but he could not recognize it over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. His nerves were raw, agony igniting every pore. He could barely feel the stone altar against his back. His eyes were open, but he saw nothing. His lips moved, but he could not hear his own words. Every one of his senses dulled to the point of nonexistence, his memories and his mind seemed to fade, and all he knew was the raging torrents of fire devouring him from within. His lungs were unable to draw breath. This was the pain of the stories he had been told, of the grim legends of the past. He could not recall them now.

Had Arthur been a lesser man, this raw spice within him might have consumed him and left nothing but rotting shell. Yet Arthur was not weak, and never had been. Even as the fiery tongues of agony lashed at him, he struggled against them, clawing towards the untainted air that lay beyond. The pain threatened to overwhelm him, to drown him in his own blood, but he did not give in to it. The battle against his own body may have lasted mere seconds, hours, days. He did not know. Time lost its meaning in the darkness. All he fought for was to once again see the light, to once again breathe the air.

Slowly, the fires began to dim as he pushed at them. They receded away, and his eyes caught the light of day once again. He choked on the air as it rushed into his starving lungs. Memory flooded his brain, thoughts and emotions running rampant through his mind. His heartbeat still pulsed in his ears, but it was muted now, not deafening. He lifted his arms up before his eyes, and gazed upon the small blue circles that marked each wrist, the only indications of his ordeal. His eyes slid closed, then open again.

"Sayyadina? Arthur?" Almost lazily, Arthur lifted his head from where it lay against the stone altar, and met the eyes of the elder. Those eyes widened, and the man's breath caught. He said nothing to Arthur though, merely turned to look out at the assembled crowd and raised his arms high. "The Sayyadina has survived! We now have our witch!"

As the cavern filled with the sounds of cheering, Arthur found that he could not concentrate. The heat that had vanished was reappearing, but it was not the intense, searing pain of before. Instead, his nerves were catching fire with the same sort of passion that he had felt during those few moments in Alfred's arms. His mind blurred, his breath coming more heavily, his legs beginning to shake with the burn of desire. He pushed himself into a seated position, and his hands trembled beneath the weight of his body. His gaze swept across the faces of the people, not recognizing any, but he felt as though his whole being was searching for one sole figure. He did not know whom.

"The Sayyadina will now choose his destined mate." Arthur only faintly heard the elder's words, and watched without emotion as his hand was lifted. The warm metal of a blade, heated by fire, slid across his palm, then turned to slice deep into the flesh. He did not feel the pain of the wound, merely a sudden surge of pleasure that coursed through his body and left him light-headed. He lifted his hand to his eyes and watched his blood gather.

The cavern around him was silent. The only sounds Arthur could hear were his own panted breaths and the racing pulse of his blood. He moved forward off of the altar until he stood once again on the rocky floor, and allowed his gaze to roam across the assembled crowd. He felt all of their eyes upon him, watching, waiting for his decision. His legs shook as he took his first step, but he kept going.

His eyes fell at once to Francis, the chieftain's son. Stories of the past often told of the future chieftain and the Sayyadina being destined for one another, and Francis stood at the front of the crowd as though he expected nothing less. Arthur stared at him for a long moment. Francis stared back, his lips twisted into a smirk. But he was not the one, not the being that demanded his attention and desire. Arthur turned away. His gaze swept across the cavern, lingering on every face, and his need grew. Yet he could not seem to find the person to whom he was drawn. His eyes fell again upon the elder. "Where is my mate?" The voice was his own, but sounded as though it came from leagues away.

The elder frowned. "What do you mean, Sayyadina?"

"Where is my mate?" Arthur said again. "I do not see them here."

"Sayyadina, this is all of our people. Your mate must be among them."

"No."

"This is impossible," snapped a new voice, and Arthur slowly turned to regard Francis. The chieftain's son had stepped forward to stand beside him. "The Sayyadina must be mistaken. He is fated to be mine, of that I am certain."

Arthur shook his head. "No." But Francis was reaching to grab his wrist, lifting the bleeding palm up towards his face. The elder was speaking, perhaps for or against this seemingly undestined union. The crowd murmured among themselves. Arthur could not seem to find the senses to struggle. Yet it was wrong, he knew it, he could feel it. Francis was not the one. "No."

"He said no!" The whole cavern fell into silence again, and Arthur turned to stare out into the crowd. He knew that voice. The heat within him leapt at the sound of it. He began to pull against the grip Francis had maintained on his wrist, wanting nothing more than to move towards the owner of the voice.

"What are you doing here, outsider?" the elder cried, even as the crowd began to part to allow passage for this newcomer. "You were not granted permission to witness this ritual."

"How could I stay away?" The newcomer stepped out from the midst of people, and Arthur gasped as all of his gathered need sharpened and focused solely upon him. Those blue eyes, the same as every man and woman within the cavern, yet so different, glared at Francis. "He said no. Release him."

Francis hesitated a moment, but relinquished his hold once Arthur began to struggle against it once more. Arthur did not spare him another glance as he moved forward on trembling legs. "Alfred."

The hunter stared at him, eyes wide with some emotion that Arthur could feel but could not comprehend. "Arthur? What are you-" His words stopped abruptly, cut off by a sharp inhalation of breath as he understood.

"This is outrageous," Francis called out. "The Sayyadina's mate, an outsider? There is no precedent!"

Arthur did not listen. He moved forward, his feet shifting over and over again until he stood directly before Alfred. The hunter did not move, but as Arthur stepped closer still, he closed his eyes and breathed out heavily. Arthur felt his lips curve upwards into a smile. He lifted his bleeding hand to Alfred's face, and slowly smeared the blood across the hunter's cheek. Alfred's breath caught. He, and every other person gathered in the cavern, knew what the gesture meant. Arthur had shared his own water with his mate. The Sayyadina had chosen.

The elder coughed behind them. "Though there is no precedent, this is destined. Sayyadina Arthur has chosen the outsider, Alfred, as his mate." The crowd's murmurs grew in volume, but the elder raised his hands to silence them. "They will now consummate their fated union."

Perhaps the assembled people left, and perhaps they did not. Arthur did not know. He could not draw his eyes away from Alfred, from the man he loved, from his mate. The very idea sent waves of pleasure rushing through his body, and he reached out to wind his arms around Alfred's neck and pull him down to meld their lips together. Alfred was hesitant this time, unlike the desperate passion of the night before, and Arthur found himself growing impatient. He bit down on Alfred's bottom lip, right alongside his scar. The hunter groaned and dug his fingers into Arthur's back. "Arthur," he breathed.

"Alfred," Arthur replied, biting at his mate's lip again. "Alfred, mate with me. Make love with me." He ran his tongue along the side of Alfred's jaw, and reveled in the taste of sand and sweat and Alfred. "Come with me. Come." His mouth continued to brush against the hunter's skin even as he began to move back towards the altar.

"Yes. Yes." Alfred followed willingly, searching for Arthur's lips again, his hands sliding across the fabric of the ceremonial robes to feel for the clasps. "I will, Arthur, yes."

Arthur moaned and grabbed at Alfred's hair. He pulled on it roughly, dragging them ever closer together. His body thrummed with desire. "Oh, Alfred, Alfred." He shivered as he felt the clasps come undone, and shifted to allow the robes to slide to the floor. He stood there, naked before his mate, the air around him pulsing with their combined arousal.

Alfred stared at him, mouth open and lips red. "Arthur, you are…" The words faded, and Alfred grasped Arthur around his waist and lifted him, staggering forwards to place him atop the stone altar again. The rock was rough against Arthur's bare skin. He arched into it, dragging Alfred down to lay across him. The feel of the hunter's sandsuit made him gasp, and his legs lifted to wrap around Alfred's hips, and draw him even closer. Alfred growled.

"Skin," Arthur whispered, his hands grasping at the high collar of Alfred's suit. "I want to feel your skin, Alfred."

"Skin, yes." Alfred pulled away, then dove back to seize Arthur's lips again. His hands fumbled across the clasps of his suit. The metallic cloth caught upon his broad shoulders before sliding to reveal darkened skin, crossed in various places by long, pale scars. Arthur's fingers trembled as they smoothed across the tanned expanse. "Arthur," Alfred murmured against his ear, "I want you. I need you."

"I am yours." Arthur drew the hunter close, twisting his fingers into thick hair. "I am yours, and you are mine. Make love with me." His legs, already tight around Alfred's hips, held tighter, and he threw his head back with a gasp as Alfred pressed against him, bare skin to bare skin. "Now, Alfred, now, please!" Alfred merely grunted in reply and moved to bite at the side of Arthur's neck. Arthur arched back against the stone as he felt calloused hands trail over his stomach to his thighs. He may have gasped out a plea for more, but he was not certain. His own arousal, coupled with the force of Alfred's desire, was beginning to overwhelm his senses.

The cavern whirled around him as his head fell back against the altar. Alfred's hands moved along his legs, across his thighs and groin, down into the place he had never dared touch before that day. His teeth bit into the skin of Alfred's ear, nearly silencing the sound he made as he was breached by the first finger. He was not sure if he felt pain. He drowned in the pleasure. "Love you," he heard himself say as a second finger was added. "I love you, I love you." A third finger entered him as well, and then all three were gone and he keened in desire.

"I love you." Alfred's voice spoke from beside Arthur's ear, and Arthur had not the time to reply before something more than fingers pressed deep within him. He cried out, a silent scream, and clung to Alfred, nails digging into the hunter's back. The first thrust sent what little was left of his functioning mind spiraling into the haze. He moved with Alfred, moaned and cried and pleaded as he was filled again and again with the most intimate part of his mate. The rolling waves of pleasure enveloped him, and he did not know how long they lay upon the altar, or how many times Alfred stilled above him with a groan, or how many times he pulled Alfred tight against his body as he moaned his release. Spice-blue eyes bore deep into his soul. He returned the gaze.

Only once Alfred collapsed atop him, unable to hold himself steady any longer, did the world around them came rushing back into Arthur's senses. It was far too much to comprehend all at once, and his head felt light and dizzy. He gasped as Alfred pulled out of him. The cavern was going dark in his vision. Arms wrapped tight around him, a gentle voice called his name, and everything faded away.

* * *

><p>When Arthur awoke, it was to the feeling of fingers moving across his face and through his hair. He did not dare to open his eyes immediately, fearful of the fact that his memories of the ritual might only have been a spice-induced dream. But when he did peer out from beneath his eyelids, he found himself gazing at tanned skin and golden hair and a scar beside smiling lips. "Alfred."<p>

"Yes, I am here." Alfred moved his hand to brush calloused fingers along Arthur's jaw. His smile grew, and those eyes that Arthur had always adored seemed to radiate pure joy. "You chose me, Arthur. You chose me."

Arthur could not help but smile as well. "It was destiny," he whispered.

"I knew we were fated to be together," Alfred murmured, and leaned in to press their lips together once more. It was soft, gentle. Arthur returned it with equal care. There would be many obstacles to overcome in their future, he knew, as mates from two different lands, as Sayyadina and master hunter, but he also knew that neither would have to face them alone. Arthur moved away, still smiling, and ran his fingers through the thick locks of Alfred's hair.

"I am yours," the Sayyadina breathed, "and you are mine."

"Always," the hunter replied, "always."

* * *

><p>AN- Well, that took way longer to write than it should have. This is dedicated to Bellanova Skies, who is a great author and my little bro, and who wrote a fantastic sci fi fic which inspired me to do my own. Hope you enjoyed it, bro! And everyone else as well.

Anyway, because I know you need some reference, this fic was somewhat based upon the world of "Dune", a sci fi book by Frank Herbert. (The title is also taken from an unpublished essay by the same man, which is cited as being the inspiration for "Dune".) I say somewhat because I did not do much research and changed up a few things. For those who have read it, good! For those who have not, go pick it up. It's a heavy read, but definitely worthwhile. Here are a few reference points:

Spice is a naturally occurring addictive drug that, after long periods of exposure, extends your life and stains your eyes dark blue. Sandworms are giant carnivorous armored worms that live in the desert and are attracted to motion and sound. The Sayyadina, or witch, does not actually have magic, but rather a more developed brain, which gives them abilities such as limited foresight and some empathy. The 'outsiders' refers to the people who have come to this world from other worlds in order to control spice production. The whole idea of not wasting water is because of the fact that the entire planet is a desert, and water is a priceless commodity.

Why didn't I include those in the story? Because this is a fic based around emotion and two specific characters, not a guidebook to Arrakis. I hope it wasn't too confusing.

Again, I hope you enjoyed! I love reading your reviews.


End file.
